


can't tire of thinking 'bout you

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Robin falls for the mystery girl across the street with a little help from Steve and a dog named Juice
Relationships: Robin Buckley/Reader
Kudos: 81





	can't tire of thinking 'bout you

The first time Robin sees you is from across the street through Steve’s bedroom window, but even from that distance, she can tell how beautiful you are. Not just beautiful; there’s something graceful in your step, something radiant in the way you smile at the dog tugging you along on a leash. There’s no one else on the street, but your lips move as you talk to the dog, laughing as you untangle its rope from a mailbox post.

Robin’s stomach twists and her breath catches; she doesn’t know who you are, but she’s determined to find out.

“You’re drooling, Buckley,” Steve says on the fourth day of Robin’s observation - and by _observation_ , she means taking over Steve’s windowsill and watching you move boxes inside and tumble around with the dog in the yard - from his perch on his bed. He’s thumbing through a magazine he stole from _her_ bag, but Robin decides to let it slide in favor of a snide remark.

“Staring, Harrington?”

He rolls his eyes and pushes off the bed, crossing the room to sit on the windowsill beside Robin. His gaze lands on you, carting another box into the open front door of your house directly across the street. A knowing look crosses his face.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?” He cocks a brow, jerking a chin toward the window. Robin folds her arms and furrows her brows, playing innocent.

“Talk to who?”

“The girl you’ve been stalking for the last four days,” he says. “Which, you took over my bedroom to do.”

“I don’t hear you complaining about the company,” Robin retorts. “And, I’m not _stalking_ her. I’m just…”

“Staring longingly?”

Robin kicks at him, and he slips off the sill and out of reach, a sly grin on his lips. He reaches out and unlocks the window, pushing up the pane before Robin can stop him. She barely manages to scramble upwards and slap a hand over his mouth, muffling his ‘hey!’ before it carries out through the open window. Steve wiggles out of her grip, stumbling backward, that same grin tugging on his mouth. He looks positively mischievous, and Robin has been around him long enough to know a mischievous Steve is a dangerous one. Do evil Russians ring any bells?

“ _Don’t_ ,” she warns, to which Steve holds up his hands in surrender.

“I won’t,” he says, “if you go talk to her.” His gaze flicks to the window, and his smile widens. Robin glances out the window where you’re stepping through your front door, leash in hand. “Perfect timing. Time to walk the dog.”

“Steve.”

He makes a move for the window, and Robin blocks him. He cocks a brow; they’re at an impasse, and they both know it.

“ _Fine_ ,” she says. “Fine.”

“You’ll thank me for this,” Steve says.

“If I don’t kill you first,” Robin retorts. Steve grins.

* * *

The anticipation and nerves coil tighter and tighter in Robin’s belly with every step down Steve’s driveway, and she’s so caught up trying to put one foot in front of the other she nearly walks right into you; she hadn’t realized you’d crossed to Steve’s side of the street. She jumps back but ends up tangled in the dog’s leash, braided rope looped around her knees. The wiggly creature does little to remedy the situation, ecstatic at Robin’s presence and darting around her.

“Shit, sorry!” You exclaim, lunging to untangle the leash. Robin’s cheeks flush, and she steps out of the leash, only to get it caught back on her ankle. The dog slips between her legs, tilting its head up, back half wiggling as it wags its tail. It may be big, but there doesn’t seem to be an aggressive bone in its body; she loves it already.

“Juice, no!” You say, dropping the leash and darting to pick it back up, unsnaking it from Robin’s feet. Once you have it back in your hands, dog - _Juice_ , of all possible names - secured, you lift your gaze to Robin’s. “I’m really sorry. He’s a little bit of an attention whore.”

Robin can’t help the smile that tugs on her lips. As far as first impressions go in Robin’s book, you’ve knocked it out of the park.

“It’s okay. He’s just enthusiastic,” she says, bending down to the dog’s level and holding out a hand. Juice juts forward to lick her hand, the sloppy tongue tickling her fingers. “ _Aren’t you? Just a little bit excited, huh_?” Juice wags his tail happily in agreement with Robin’s statement - or, more likely, her high-pitched tone - and she straightens to meet your gaze. You’re ten times as beautiful up close, and Robin is thankful for Juice the dog as a distraction.

“He comes on a little strong, sometimes,” you say with a smile.

“Don’t we all?” Robin asks, to which you snort. Juice tugs forward into Robin’s reach, demanding scratches on his head that she happily obliges.

“You’re such a _flirt_ ,” you tell him, faking judgment, a smile playing on your lips. 

“I get it, bud,” Robin says, finding a surprising amount of courage and wielding it, “girls are really something.” She’s somewhat reluctant to meet your gaze - to see the inevitable disgust in your eyes - but when she does, all she finds is surprise and a smile.

* * *

“How’s it going with _mystery girl_?” Steve asks, popping a whopper in his mouth. Keith rags on him every time he catches him snacking at the counter, but that hasn’t deterred Steve from sneaking bags of candy. Robin holds a hand out, and he dumps a handful into her palm.

“She has a name,” Robin says.

“Well, _you_ won’t tell me about her. And my love life is in the shitter. How can I live vicariously through you if you don’t give me the juicy details?” He asks, brows waggling. Robin snorts.

“I’m sorry for being so _selfish_.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, the corners of his mouth turning up. “But since you wouldn’t share, I had to go to the source.”

Robin narrows her eyes.

“You didn’t.”

“I was being _neighborly_ ,” he says. “I brought banana bread.” Robin cocks a brow.

“Did you _make_ the banana bread?”

Steve pouts.

“Not the point.” He dumps another few whoppers in his mouth, and continues speaking as he chews, ever so elegantly, “ _she’th reawy nithe_.”

“Chew and swallow,” Robin says.

“She’s really nice,” Steve amends. “She also said _you_ were really nice.”

“Please, do _not_ get involved in my relationship.”

“ _Relationship_ , huh?”

“ _No_ -just. Damn it. I don’t even really know her, yet. But I don’t need you sticking your nose into things.”

Steve gives her a wicked grin.

“You like her. _Like-like_ her.”

“Are you twelve?”

“And a half,” Steve says.

“Stay out of it, Harrington.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“ _Fuck you_.”

“That’s _two_ words.”

* * *

Robin has just climbed out of her car in Steve’s driveway when something barrels into her leg and nearly knocks her over. She steadies herself on the open door, looking down to find Juice wiggling excitedly at her feet. With a smile, she shuts the car door and kneels down, letting the dog envelop her, tipping her head back to keep her face out of tongue reach.

“Juice, come on, man!” Footsteps patter against the asphalt, growing louder and stopping near Robin. She lifts her gaze to find you standing with your hands on your hips, shaking your head with disapproval at Juice, who couldn’t be less concerned with you at the moment. Robin rubs behind his ears and stands, keeping her hands on the dog’s head and scratching.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you say with a smile.

“I don’t know, being attacked by kisses isn’t exactly my idea of a bad time,” Robin says. As if in affirmation, Juice licks her fingers.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days. Steve said you were working.”

“He mentioned he stopped by.”

“He brought a _lovely_ store-bought banana bread,” you say. “It was actually pretty good.”

“That’s Steve Harrington,” Robin says. You grin and reach out to tug on Juice’s collar, drawing him toward you. He resists, but you get him close enough to clip his leash back on and release him. He darts back to Robin, and she bends down to kiss his head - a hard task with his wiggling.

“He missed you,” you say. A flush creeps across your cheeks, and a moment later, you add, “he wasn’t the only one.”

It’s Robin’s turn to blush, and she averts her gaze, rubbing behind Juice’s ears.

“I’m sorry, Juice,” she says, gaze flicking up to yours. “I’ll try to stop by more.”

“We’d both like that very much,” you say, mouth twitching into a smile. “Juice, a little more, obviously.”

“Oh, of course,” Robin says, laughing, stomach fluttering and tumbling.

You glance back at your house before meeting Robin’s eyes again, a shy smile on your lips.

“Want to come in?” You ask.

“I’d love to,” Robin says without hesitation. Your smile widens, and you hand her Juice’s leash, jerking your head toward the house.

“Come on, Juice. Let’s show your new girlfriend around,” you say. In a lower voice, you say, “if you’re not careful, bud, I might steal her from you.”

Robin trips, breath hitching, but fortunately enough for her, you’re there to catch her as she falls; in more ways than one.


End file.
